Knowing Better Than This
by Ebenbild
Summary: Everybody grieves different. George is no exception. Unluckily, not everybody understands. Luckily, some do. Post-HP books;


_**Disclaimer**_ _: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…_

 _ **Placing:**_ _After the war._

 _Challenge: 'Prompt of the day'. Prompt_ _: (_ _word_ _)_ A friend in need is a friend indeed _. 1744_ _words_ _._ _Gryffindor_ _,_ _Hogwarts_ _._

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sSsSsSsSs

 _ **KNOWING BETTER THAN THIS**_

sSs

"I'm sorry," they say. "I understand that you're grieving."

"I'm sorry," they tell him. "But believe me, it will be better sometimes in the future."

"I understand," they say. "And I know you don't want to hear it now, but you will move on some time."

And he can't stand to listen to their mindless chatter.

"It's been a year already," they say. "Don't worry, you will soon laugh when you remember better times."

"You just have to let the grief run its course," they tell him. "In another year or two, you will go out and have a good laugh again."

"You're coping quite well," they say. "With a little bit more time it won't hurt you anymore."

And he wants to punch them in the face.

"It's been two years, already," they say. "How time goes by! Do you remember our fifth year, that prank you two pulled at the teachers?"

"I see you're doing quite well for yourself," they tell him. "Do you need any help inventing? I could give you some ideas if you need them."

"It's your birthday today," they say. "Shouldn't you be happy instead of looking sad?"

And this time he actually does the punching.

The guy speaking to him holds his nose in bewilderment.

"What?" He asked. "Is it something I said? What did I do?"

Instead of replying, he simply punches the guy again.

And again.

And again.

And…

A hand stops him before he can get in another hit.

So he struggles against it, but a warm body stops him from actually taking another hit – even if he wants it… oh, how he wants it!

"Go," a cold voice says to the guy on the ground. "And don't bother returning."

The guy just looks on in confusion, but the steely gaze of the man holding the attacker's arm, the man standing between attacker and victim, holding the attacker back by pure physical force, makes the guy think twice about objecting.

In the end, the guy bows to the demands of the man and leaves.

The attacker just seethes in silence.

"I should have punched him some more," he finally grunts out while trying to stop the tears from falling.

How could this moron ask him why he was sad when it was his birthday?! That idiot had known him since they had been eleven! He should have known better than that!

Should… but hadn't. Like so many others, that guy had forgotten, like so many others, that guy didn't understand at all!

 _Morons! All of them!_

"Maybe you should have," is the haughty reply. "I just thought that I should stop you before someone calls the aurors on you. We _are_ in the middle if Diagon Alley, you know?"

It's then that the attacker remembers that they are indeed in the middle of the alley – and making quite a scene as well, if considering the looks he was getting from all around.

A lot of the people gawking, he recognises. They were members of his own house at school, they were his rivals in sport; they were people he called friends while entertaining them, while talking to them, going to class with them…

None of them show any kind of understanding. They all just look at him, accusing him of unprovoked violence towards another person. In their eyes, he's the bad one.

In their eyes, there has been nothing wrong with the question that guy asked him. Even worse: a lot of them have asked the question today while wishing him a happy birthday.

It is, as if they have forgotten.

It is, as if in their eyes, it's always been him, just him alone and not…

He closes his eyes at that, looking away from their accusing stares.

"Don't look at him like that," the man says in this moment. "Don't you have anything better to do but to stare?"

The people blush at that and then reluctantly turn around and seemingly return to their business – just to shoot a wary glance at him, now and then. Oddly enough they don't truly move away, instead they're still waiting for another fall-out.

Maybe they're even waiting to see him punch the other man's face for stopping him.

But he knows that the man had done the right thing. Someone had to stop him – because try as he might, he had been unable to stop himself. The haze of fury that had overtaken his brain had made that all but impossible.

Still, he's surprised by his rescuers words – if just because of a little fact he remembers his brother-in-law talking about just days ago…

"I thought you're part of the aurors," the attacker finally says and the man snorts and waves it off.

"I'm off-duty right now," he says. "I basically have to do nothing."

The attacker raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think that it works that way, you know?" He says dryly.

The other man just shrugs.

"No one would object my assessment of the situation," he replies. "They know better than that, Weasley." The last sentence is accompanied with a smirk.

Weasley rolls his eyes at that, a little bit of amusement returning to his drawn face.

"Whatever you say," he replies. "And I guess, it's George. If nothing else, you've definitely earned to use my given name."

The other man snorts at that.

"And I thought you liked to get confused with others," he says. "Calling you Weasley definitely would just help with that theme."

The reply is so casual, without any pity, without dismissing what was and never will be again, and it feels like taking a deep breath after holding it for a long, long time.

 _No pity_ – he hates pity.

 _No tip-toeing around him_ – he despises to be treated as if he is fragile.

 _No false understanding_ – because nobody, not even his parents truly understand.

 _No acting as if nothing happened_ – he can't stand it if someone acts as if nothing happened at all.

It's a clean assessment of George's character. Nothing more, nothing less. And somehow, George can take that quite well.

"Normally I would agree with you," he says. "But being confused with my whole family takes the joke too far even for me."

The other man snorts at that.

"Oddly enough I can only complement you about that show of sanity,… George," he says, stopping shortly before saying the name. "I'm not sure if I like being in agreement with you about that."

George just shrugs.

"It could be worse," he answers and when the other man raises an eyebrow, he continues while a grin spreads over his face. "You could be helping a member of the family you've hated with all your might since the day you were born."

The man's eyes narrow at that, then he shakes his head.

"Blame my partner," he says. "Being around him 24/7 in the auror corps had to rub off on me sometime."

"Ah," George exclaims at that, understanding in his eyes. "Harry."

The other man gives a long suffering sigh and nods.

"Potter," he agrees. "Seems like I will never get rid of that damn man."

George chuckles, then he gestures to his shop.

"Want to come in for a cup of tea?" He asks, unbothered by the heads turning at that offer and the incredulous stares he's getting.

The other man just raises an eyebrow at that.

"We're not friends, Weasley," he tells George. "Stop acting as if we are."

George just answers the raised eyebrow with his own.

"I know more than half of the street, you know," he says, gesturing to the people around him. "A lot of them called themselves my _friends_ at school."

"So?" Is the man's dry reply.

"So they actually _should_ know why I hate today. They should understand that telling me I should be 'joyful' or 'happy' or 'partying' today, is wrong – wrong on so many levels I can't even describe!"

Now some of the onlookers look enraged. A lot of them had stopped by to wish him a happy birthday, a lot of them had asked him if he would throw a party and hadn't been very understanding when he said 'no'.

"It happened two years ago," one of them finally offers. "Shouldn't you be over it by now? I mean, shouldn't you continue to live your life by now, not dwell in the past?"

George's eyes narrow at that, but the man next to him beat him to it.

"You can't control grief," he says in George's stet. "Some things will never be over! You cannot demand that he moves on like you do!"

"Still," the speaker in the crowd insists. "He should have moved on already. All his siblings have."

It's the man next to George that stops him before he can punch that idiot as well.

His hands barely grab George's robe before he can lung at the speaker.

"Everyone grieves different," the man says. "If you were a true friend, you would have understood."

And his eyes sweep over the crowd as if to challenge them to dare to object him.

The speaker in the crowd sneers.

"And you consider yourself a good friend?" He asks icily. "You? A marked Death Eater?"

The man next to George opens his mouth to reply, but this time, George is faster than him.

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," he spats. "I guess by simply standing up for me instead of just watching on he has proven that he's a better friend than any of you will ever be!"

"I'm not your friend!" The man next to him objects, frowning.

George just shrugs.

"I'm quite sure you are now, Malfoy," he says. "You have proven yourself to me, after all."

Draco Malfoy's mouth snaps shut at that exclamation and George is treated to the show of the unflappable pureblood gawking.

George is sure that with time, he will get Malfoy to accept that being friends with a Weasley wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him in his life. Until then, George would simply have to be persistent. He was sure that it would be worth it. Malfoy had shown that he might be an interesting and good friend in time, after all.

"Let's wreak some havoc," he murmurs to himself. "That would definitely have pleased you. Me befriending a Malfoy should cause enough for both of us, in the end."

Then he gestures to Malfoy to follow him and the man complies.

It's shortly before entering his shop that George looks up into the clear sky.

"Happy birthday, Fred," he says. "I hope you have a good day. I promise I will make the most of mine as well…"

And maybe, someday, he will be able to smile at his birthday again…

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 _Just a little idea_

 _Hope you liked it_

 _Ebenbild_


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